Dark Side of the Moon

by P. C. Rasmussen

"Now is not a good time to talk," his father countered sternly, reached forward and cut the connection.

  The screen in front of him went blank and Kyle just stood there and stared at it for a moment, adrenaline cruising through his veins. "Son of a bitch," he pressed out through clenched teeth.

  Bark appeared to his right, cautiously eying the monitor, then stepped up in front of the console again and started typing. Text appeared on the screen in endless procession while his fingers danced over the keyboard. "The signal got hacked," he finally said. "Your father must have some sort of warning system. That's probably why he cut the connection."

  Kyle sneered. "Bullshit. He cut the connection to prove a point," he growled.

  "What point?" Daniel asked from where he was still sitting on the floor.

  Kyle glanced at him and realized his reaction to his father cutting the connection like that was a very predictable one; at least in his own mind. What Kyle wanted from his father was concern, interest and the occasional pat on the shoulder. What he got was indifference, harshness and constant reminders to shape up and be a man. "The point that he's still in charge and that my life is his to do with whatever he wants," he countered and sighed deeply. "Or maybe I'm just being a spoiled brat with a hankering for overdramatizing things," he added and sat down next to Daniel. "How are you holding up?"

  The look in Daniel's eyes grew distant for a moment, before he glanced at Kyle and made a half-assed attempt at a shrug. "Okay, I guess," he said and grimaced. "A bit ... sore."

  That was understandable. "Yeah. If we're lucky ... and right now I'd even have to say extremely lucky ... my dad will take my call tomorrow, and we'll find out if we're on our way out of here or not." He looked up and eyed Bark, who was watching them with a somewhat bland expression.

  "And if not?" Bark asked.

  Stan decided to add his two cents at that point. "Then we're pretty much fucked six ways from Sunday," he offered with a joyless smile, slumped against the wall and slid down it until he was sitting on the floor as well.

  Kyle wasn't happy about the implications, but Stan had a point. "What he said," he agreed and met the other man's eyes across the room. "I only hope that whatever the hell that thing in dome 6 is ... it won't spread faster than it will take my father to get us the fuck out of here."

  Daniel gave him a startled look. "It's ... spreading?" he nearly whispered while what little color had returned to his face drained away again.

  "Yup," Kyle agreed. "But, of course, at this rate, it'll take it another one hundred years or so to reach us. If it started out in dome 6 and blacked out dome 5 only in the past thirty years or however long this place has been a prison ... I'd say we're probably safe."

  Stan shifted a little. "It blacked out dome 5 about five years ago. There were habitats in there like in domes 2 and 4 from what I've heard. Or maybe it was offices. After all, this used to be a research station. They researched something up here, but the station was given up about thirty-five years ago. The official story was that it wasn't profitable, that it cost too much to keep the domes running." He picked something off one pant leg and let it flutter to the ground. "The whole station was dormant for about ... five to ten years, then some knucklehead came up with the idea to turn it into a maximum security prison for lifers. That was, of course, after the Antarctica and the Sahara prisons failed so miserably."

  Bark had turned around to face them and was leaning against the console, his arms crossed over his chest. "What are you, a history-buff?" he asked curiously.

  Stan shrugged lightly. "I had the inclination to become a teacher when I was younger. History always was my favorite subject in school," he said, a smile playing on his lips. "But despite the acceptance these days, a gay man in a gay relationship ... doesn't stand many chances of being allowed to mold young people's minds. The stars forbid we'd 'infect' the precious little ones with our sickness." There was a bitter undercurrent in his tone that made his pain at the loss of a dream very clear.

  "It's a fucked-up world we're living in," Kyle agreed with a nod, then made a face. "Well ... technically we're not really living in it anymore," he corrected himself with a rueful smile.

  "Hopefully, we will soon again," Bark added solemnly.

  "Yeah, hopefully," Kyle agreed.

  Chapter 8

  Preparations underway

  Marie eyed the display for a moment, rereading the code, then turned her head a little to look at her boss. "They didn't manage to get anything," she said with a smile.

  "Good," Jonathan said and relaxed a little. "I'm getting tired of the Council. They meddle too much, make too many bad decisions. Perhaps a movement to disband them might be appropriate?"

  Marie arched a sculpted eyebrow. "Be careful what you say out loud, Mr. Whitmore," she suggested. "The walls may have ears."

  Jonathan sent a sweeping look around his office, his expression tensing. "Right you are," he agreed. "Get me someone good for tomorrow's transmission. And get Harris on the how and when right away."

  She smiled. "Mr. Harris is already informed and is working on it as we speak," she said. "And I contacted Bluetooth for the security issue. He's one of the best in his field."

  "That's my girl," Jonathan muttered without a twitch, then glanced at his secretary. "Why is it, do you think, that there are so few women in that field?"

  This made her chuckle. "Oh, I'm quite sure there are more than we know. They just don't like to stand out," she said.

  "You are probably right," he agreed and got up. "Keep me posted. I will retire for the evening. I'll be at the mansion if there's any news."

  "As always, sir," she agreed with a nod.

  Jonathan stopped next to her and eyed her in that way he had; that way that bothered others, even intimidated them, but to her it was always a look that made her feel she was doing a good job. "I honestly do not know what I would do without you, Marie," he said.

  Considering that Jonathan Whitmore wasn't a man who dished out compliments easily, Marie understood her station as well as their working relationship only too well. She had been his secretary for many years and aimed at remaining in this position for as long as she possibly could. It was satisfactory for her because he relied on her so heavily, a position she knew his wife had held before her. And it wasn't a physical relationship she was after anyway. What she needed from life she was getting in abundance; appreciation and the ability to do a job she loved. What else was there in life? "I'm sure you would get by just fine, sir," she replied and held his stare for a moment before returning her attention to the computer console.

  Whitmore Sr. walked past her, but stopped at the doors when they swung open to admit him into the lobby. He stood there for a moment, back turned, then glanced back at her. "No, I wouldn't," he confessed and left the office. The heavy oak doors swung quietly shut behind him.

  Marie smiled. "No, you probably wouldn't," she agreed just as quietly and focused on her calculations again.

  ***

  Jonathan Whitmore, III, was known as a hard man and he liked it that way. It made his life easier if others thought he would come down on them hard if they didn't comply. Based on his late wife's admonishing ways, he did what he could to remain fair and not let the power he wielded over others rise to his head. But it was hard sometimes, knowing that a well-placed threat made things happen faster than if he went by the book.

  This evening, the mansion he called home had never seemed lonelier, though. It was lonely at the top of the hill, lonely and cold. And he missed Alice more than ever before. Being his complete opposite in every way, there had still been a place in her heart for him and he had both admired and despised her for it. In a way, her pliable nature and forgiving heart had struck him as weak and feeble. But in the end she had been stronger than him, had managed things with kind words and a smile, which he still could not accomplish without a harsh look and a muttered warning.

  He trailed slowly through the living room, a vast
and cavernous place filled with the ghosts of the past. His father had grown up here, and his grandfather before him. The Whitmore family had always been powerful men with strong and hearty women by their sides. Alice's premature demise had left him with a void inside he could not fill. Marie took care of the practical matters of his life, and he meant it every time he told her she was irreplaceable. But Marie was not Alice, and never would be.

  "There's no shame in finding release elsewhere," his father had once said when Jonathan had asked him how he was supposed to get by without his wife. That had not been the root of the question, of course, but his father had been a lewd sort of man, who had abused his station and pretty much done what he wanted to do, no matter who got in the way.

  "There is shame in it, father," he growled under his breath. He still harbored a lot of resentment for the man, wanted nothing more than to be anything other than what his father had been. And Alice had helped him be a better man. But she had never managed to bridge the gap between Jonathan and Kyle.

  He stopped short at the oldest cliché in the world; the family portrait hanging over the excessive fireplace; a portrait of the three of them. And he hated it. Not so much for the unforgiving and almost haughty expression on his own face, but for the fact that he no longer had any of what that painting represented; the family unit, the love of a woman as powerful as himself in her own way, and the son he had never managed to connect with.

  His gaze settled on the then toddler sitting on his mother's lap; Kyle, the last of the Whitmore clan, thirty years old and sent to prison for a crime he had not committed. It wasn't until that cop had informed him of the findings in the case that Jonathan had even entertained the idea that Kyle might be innocent. And it ate away at him that he had so little faith in his own blood that he would condemn the boy to a fate like that.

  "There is still time to correct this wrong," he said quietly to the painting. "There is still time."

  He withdrew to the library, which seemed less cavernous and cozier to him than the living room. The library had been Alice's domain, and her touch was all over it. Twenty-six years and he still yearned for her with a passion and a pain that was frightening at times.

  He settled into his favorite chair and allowed himself to relax, to let the tension of the day seep out of him. Kyle was alright for now, but the claim that there were not just prisoners in LPC made him wonder what the science station had left behind. It worried him, and he vowed that he would look into it. But first he needed to get Kyle out of there. He had his priorities after all.

  ***

  Cubbyhole Blues

  A sharp sound ripped him out of a doze he wasn't even aware of slipping into. Somewhat disoriented, Kyle raised his head and blinked heavily at his surroundings.

  "Sorry," Bark whispered and set the stool he had brought in from somewhere more quietly onto the floor a little closer to the console.

  Stan, who had fallen asleep where he was sitting too, muttered under his breath and gave Bark a bleary-eyed reproachful look before settling himself a little more comfortably against the wall.

  Kyle glanced at Daniel, who had somehow managed to sleep through that sound. He was curled up in the corner between the wall and the console, hugging himself as if cold, his fingers digging into his arms. "No harm done," Kyle assured Bark and yawned. "We can't sleep in here," he added and got to his feet. Arching his back, he grimaced at the woolen taste in his mouth. "We should find some cots or something."

  "We can't fit four cots in here," Bark said wisely and settled onto the stool, his attention on the console in front of him.

  Kyle glanced around and thought that maybe they could. It would be tight, but if cots were out of the question, then at least blankets and pillows would help. "I'll see if I can find some blankets or something," he suggested and left their cubbyhole behind to do just that.

  He wandered around dome 1 for a bit, looking for leftovers, but couldn't find any. It was easy enough to decide on a visit to dome 2. It was not so easy to step out of the tunnel and into the haunted area. Daniel had originally said that the dwellers in dome 1 didn't want to live in dome 2 because they were afraid of ghosts. At first, Kyle had considered that to be bullshit, but now he wasn't so sure. Whether his own recent experiences had colored his perception of this place or not, it felt different to him than the first time he had set foot in this dome; it felt cold, hostile and very much haunted.

  For a moment he lingered at the mouth of the tunnel, but then drew in a deep breath, steeling himself against whatever might happen. "Shape up, man. I can't prove dad right in this. I am not a coward," he muttered and grimaced, then stepped into the dome and hurried toward the first door.

  He picked up blankets and pillows for all four of them and then stepped back out of the fourth room he had raided only to stop dead with a shudder. It felt like something was brushing the small hairs on the back of his neck; and they were standing at attention like good little soldiers.

  With his breath stuck in his throat, he chanced a careful glance over one shoulder and found nothing there. Whatever it was that inclined him to do so was something he would never be able to explain, but instead of looking around, he looked up; and up there, on the canopy of dirty glass above him, where the moon cows. They were crawling over the inside of the glass like flies and there were so many of them, they almost managed to blot out the center of the dome above him. "What the hell?" he muttered.

  The pen in dome 3 held maybe ten of them. Up there, high above, he could see the first fifty, and he was sure that there were more than that. "Son of a bitch," he said.

  "What are you staring at?" Andy's dour voice cut into this mesmerizing sight.

  Kyle shifted his attention to the other man and just eyed him for a moment. "What the hell are you doing here?" he countered.

  The sourness was obviously a part of the guy, judging by his expression. But then he frowned and sent a look upward. His expression changed radically. "What the fuck are those?" he gasped and took a step back as if that made any difference.

  "Moon cows," Kyle said and gave him a crooked smirk when Andy gave him an incredulous look. "They've got a few of them penned up in dome 3. The gardeners eat them," he added.

  "Moon cows?" Andy was too stunned to be snarky. "What in the name of creation are you talking about? Moon cows? There are no cows on the Moon."

  Kyle shrugged. "Suit yourself. Maybe we're all just hallucinating. You ever consider that? Maybe we're all human batteries stuck in pods under the ground," he said and smirked when Andy gave him an uncertain look. "Or maybe we're all locked in some lab back on Earth, being experimented on, and this is all just a dream."

  "Shut the fuck up," Andy snarled and sent another uncertain look upward. "What the hell are they doing up there anyway?"

  Kyle couldn't help a chuckle. Now that he knew what that odd sense was about, he could laugh it off. "They clean the glass," he said. "Anyway ... see you around. Maybe," he added, turned and headed back to the tunnel.

  All while he was making fun of the situation, he couldn't stop the feeling that there was more to these oversized bugs. They had to be a part of that thing in dome 6. There really was no other explanation, unless humanity had somehow managed to overlook the fact that the Moon was inhabited.

  Shaking the shudder that wanted to crawl up his spine, he hurried back to the cubbyhole and distributed the blankets and pillows before settling down next to Daniel again. He thought about letting the others know, but figured it made no difference at this point. If the moon cows turned out to be anything other than ... what did you call something that only ate dust? Pulvivores? Or would the correct phrase be omnivores in this case despite the fact that they obviously didn't eat plants or meat? He shook his head lightly. "Doesn't matter," he muttered under his breath.

  "What doesn't?" Bark was still awake and working on the com-station. He glanced at Kyle, searching his face for a moment.

  "Never mind. My mind's just
running a mile a minute right now," Kyle confessed and pulled the blanket tighter around him. He felt a little cold right now, probably because he was tired.

  Daniel had accepted the pillow and blanket half-asleep and was off in whatever dreamland kept him captive right now. Jack had mentioned that Daniel had violent nightmares, but so far Kyle had yet to witness one. He appeared to sleep very soundly for someone who had seen so much crap. 'I will get you out of here', he promised silently, huddled into the opposite corner and finally drifted back to sleep.

  ***

  Change of scenery

  Kyle woke up again when someone shoved him. Not entirely awake, he glanced to his left and found Daniel sitting next to him, back ramrod straight, blanket pulled up to his chin, while he stared wide-eyed at something at the other end of the room.

  With a frown and a half-suppressed yawn, Kyle sat up and grimaced at the stiffness in his joints. Then he looked across the room and saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Dan?" he asked and returned his attention to the younger man. Daniel just sat there and stared and didn't even seem to register that Kyle was talking to him. "Daniel?" he tried again, now decidedly worried and completely awake.

  Bark had finally given in to sleep and was cuddled up in the other corner between machine and wall. At Kyle's insistent voice, he raised his head and blinked rapidly a few times. "'sup," he rasped, pushed up on one elbow and knuckled one eye.

  Kyle ignored him. "Daniel!" he insisted and grabbed the younger man's shoulder.

  "They're all gone," Daniel nearly whispered and tried to push back further without much luck. The wall was in his way.

  "Who's gone?" Kyle asked, not sure he liked the implications of what Daniel might be saying here. "What do you mean, they're all gone?"

  Daniel's eyes shifted even while his body remained perfectly still. "All of them," he whispered. "All of them gone."